


Chrysalis

by Seventyfiveapples



Category: Bright (2017)
Genre: Art, Bright Universe, Cilantro, Coffee, Cookies, Elves, F/M, Fluff, M/F Sex, Magical Creatures, Oral Sex, Orcs, Romance, Sculpture, Smut, Smut and Fluff, Tender smut, contemporary setting but magical races, cuteness, non-graphic references to violence, orcs - freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 05:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14513298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventyfiveapples/pseuds/Seventyfiveapples
Summary: I wrote this after receiving a request for a romance between a female reader and a male plus-size orc. This is set in the Bright Universe, but all characters are my creation. If you're not familiar with Bright, this could be read as a orc/human romance in a contemporary setting.





	1. Chapter 1

You weren’t an “art person.”

But whoever had lived in your apartment before you must have been. Every month, without fail, you got promotional postcards from the art gallery around the corner from your office.

You usually just tossed them.

This month, however, the large-scale wood and metal sculptures on the postcard had caught your eye. You put the postcard on your fridge and found yourself pausing every time you passed it. You wanted to go, and see this sculpture in person. You wanted to stand under it, smell the varnish. But… you weren’t an “art person.” They would probably be able to tell.

On the night of the opening, you surprised yourself by driving by the building. You saw a free parking space right in front of the gallery and pulled in, deciding that this was kismet. You felt a bit like a party crasher, but you reminded yourself that this event was open to the public, after all. 

Besides, after the year you’d had, you were open to new experiences. You were also open to challenging the thoughts you had about the kind of person you might really be.

You took a deep breath, grabbed your keys and made your way across the street into the gallery… then almost immediately walked right out.

The gallery was packed tight with well-dressed, wealthy patrons. There were mostly elves and a few humans, dripping with showy jewelry. They all seemed to know each other, laughing and drinking. They didn’t even seem to notice the art. You felt completely out of place.

You tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, weaving between the sculptures and the other attendees. You would just find the piece you came to see, then leave. At last, you made your way to a back room where you saw… **_IT_.**

The sculpture from the postcard.

Oxidized metal bracing thick beams of raw wood as they arched across the space. Its swooping forms and rough textures were bold, but somehow it felt open at the same time. You walked around it slowly, finding new shapes and angles with each step.

You were so glad that this was the least crowded room in the gallery.

But not for long.

You heard loud laughter and sloppy, drunk voices as the crowd made its way back, filling the room and blocking the sculpture from your view. _Fuck this_ , you thought, ready to bolt. But as the crowds filed in, they blocked every route to the door.

You took a step backwards, then another, as the room filled.

At your third step back, you were surprised to feel your back make contact- with someone’s belly. Surprised, you whipped around and made eye contact… with an orc.

Heavyset and handsome, he stood a good several inches taller than you. He was wearing a tailored silk blazer that probably cost more than your month’s rent, but he was wearing it over a black t-shirt that hugged his large frame and well-worn jeans. He tugged the blazer forward self-consciously, laughing softly at your surprise.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there!” You apologized, but the orc just shook his head.

“I know you didn’t,” he said. “It’s fine. These things are usually close quarters, and the serious buyers come before the crowds, so I just try to lay low after the first hour.”

“Are you- are you the artist?”

He nodded, offering a handshake. His hand was broad and warm. “My name’s Sergei.”

You told him yours.

“Sergei, it’s nice to meet you. Look- I’ve never gone to an art opening in my life. _Ever_. But your art is incredible. I could look at this piece,” you gestured behind you, “for hours.”

He looked shy. “I noticed,” he told you, smiling.

You felt your cheeks get warm. Now it was your turn to feel shy. “You saw me?”

He started to respond, but the crowd had filled the room and grown so noisy you couldn’t hear a word. You cupped your ear and shook your head.

Just then, someone bumped into you from behind, sending you crashing into Sergei for the second time. You mouthed SORRY but he just laughed and shook his head. He didn’t seem to mind. Most orcs you knew seemed to wear a semi-permanent scowl, but Sergei’s eyes were warm and he had an easy smile. Talented _and_ cute, you thought…

Suddenly feeling brave, you stepped on tiptoe to speak in his ear. “I’d love to hear more about your art.”

Sergei’s eyebrow ridges shot up. He leaned down to speak closer to your ear. “Do you want to go somewhere a little quieter? I mean,” he added quickly, “here in the gallery.”

You did.

He reached across to a nearby table and lifted up a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. He gave you a nod of his head, signaling for you to follow him.

 _Why the hell not,_ you thought, moving his way.

He headed toward an exit door at the back of the gallery. You nearly got separated as a small group stopped in your path, seemingly unaware of either of you. Sergei saw this, looked back at you, and reached out a hand. You took it, wondering where you were going.

Beyond the door was a staircase. You climbed, still holding his free hand, and soon found yourself on the rooftop.

It was dark, but you could start to make out the outlines of some furniture. You weren’t gifted with an orc’s nighttime vision and didn’t want to trip. You froze in place.

Meanwhile, Sergei walked to a corner and crouched down, holding an extension cord of some kind. What was he doing? You started to wonder if this had been a huge mistake when all of a sudden- a dozen strings of garden lights blinked to life, bathing the rooftop in soft light. The furniture you’d noticed before was illuminated: several sets of contemporary-looking plastic chairs, tables, couches, and some rugs made out of fake grass.

It was a very cozy patio.

“The gallery owner said I could pop up here if I needed to get away during the opening.”

“It’s nice,” you told him, taking a step or two closer to the middle of the patio.

He looked up at the lights, seeming to agree. You loved how the light set off his blue and peach skin markings. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke.

“It’s called _Chrysalis._ ”

“What?”

“The piece you were looking at.”

“Oh.” You tried to think of something impressive to say as he walked back towards you with his hands in his pockets, but your mind went blank.

“I… Okay, I don’t really know anything about art. I’m sorry. I think I’m a little out of place here.”

At that, he laughed.

“ _You’re_ out of place? You realize I’m the only orc here, right? I think that’s why the gallery owner showed me this patio. Sometimes sales are easier if I’m not there.” He laughed a little as he said it, but you thought that was awful.

His hands still in his pockets, he took another few steps toward you until you were standing almost as close as you had been inside.

“Tell me a little more- what was it about that piece that made such an impact? You just said you’ve never been to an art opening. I’d love to hear why you were so drawn to my sculpture.”

“It probably sounds odd, but when I saw that piece, it made me feel… hopeful. Like the future was full of possibilities. I just really liked it.”

“Well it took me about six months, so I’m glad you did,” he grinned. “But actually, that’s kind of what I was going for: hope, optimism. That’s why I called it _Chrysalis_ \- Oh dammit, I forgot a bottle opener.”

“Not to worry.” You winked at him before reaching for the bottle and taking out your car keys. This worked about half the time so you really hope this was one of those times… Jamming one key into the cork at an angle, you gently wiggled the cork back and forth until it started moving, eventually bringing the cork out in one piece. You poured a glass for each of you and handed his to him.

“Damn,” he said, “That was impressive. Are you _sure_ this is your first art opening? The crowd down there would eat that up.”

“Nope, just a trick from college,” you told him, holding up your glass. “Here’s to hope and optimism, and- to trying new things.”

His eyebrow ridges raised up again in surprise, and you realized how flirty you sounded. He didn’t seem bothered, though. He clinked his glass against yours, saying, “I’ll drink to that.”

The wine, the patio, his cute, deep laughter - you couldn’t decide if he was really nice or just really smooth.

Maybe both.

He gestured to a nearby couch and you sat down, next to him.

“So,” he started, “what do you do while you’re out there, avoiding art shows at all costs?”

You let out a full body laugh at that. 

“I don’t _actively avoid_ them, I just haven’t really been interested before. But- I work in finance. I’m an accountant for an accounting firm, believe it or not.”

“Oh, well, that’s…” he seemed at a loss.

“Yeah, that’s the reaction I usually get. I like it though. Spreadsheets, formulas, standardized forms-” You looked up to see Sergei with a puzzled expression, like he was trying to read a sign that was too far away. You waved your hand and . “Okay, okay, I know it’s not for everyone.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s cool. I’m glad you found something that interests you. Lots of people aren’t so lucky.” He paused for a minute and then reached out to brush his fingers against your free hand. 

“Um… look, I know we just met, but you seem really cool. And nice. Would- would you want to maybe grab some dinner sometime?”

Gods, he was gorgeous, and you were having a great time talking, but after your last disastrous relationship, you just weren’t sure.

“Sergei-“

“No, never mind, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked, but I just thought you might-”

“No, no- it’s not that I’m not interested. I am! I’m really enjoying talking with you, and you’re- I mean, you’re really cute.” He looked up at you at this. “I just- well, I had a bad breakup a few months ago and I kind of swore off men for a little while.” 

He looked at you for a few seconds with a questioning expression, then broke into a smile.

“No men, huh? Well, then,” he said, seeming to get his confidence back. He brought your hand up to his mouth for a light kiss. “It’s a good thing I’m an orc.”

 _Dammit_ , you thought, feeling your resolve melt. You couldn’t deny that you were attracted to Sergei and did want to get to know him better.

He leaned toward you, and you felt your heart start to pound. You leaned in to meet him halfway. You’d never kissed an orc before, and had never really considered how tusks might complicate matters. He wrapped an arm around you just as your lips made contact with his. Electricity sparked inside you, through your chest, down your arms and legs. He let out a low hum, almost a purr or a growl, and you felt a rush of warmth from between your legs.

You swung around so that you were kneeling on the couch. You leaned forward and he let himself be pushed onto his back as you held his head in both hands and kissed him more deeply.

Maybe you really _were_ an art person…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, a part two! I really just couldn't get this guy and this couple out of my head. This will be 4 parts. :)

When you had decided to visit an upscale gallery for its monthly art reception, you had no idea you’d end up straddling an orc and making out like teenagers, but - as they say - here you were, killing it.

Alone with Sergei on the rooftop patio, the two of you had wasted little time. Each of you were curious about the other, and the mutual attraction was strong. He was sitting upright on the patio couch. You were above him, resting on your knees as you pressed him back, his head in your hands. You had never been one for casual hookups, but there was something about Sergei that you couldn’t resist and didn’t want to.

Every now and then, one of you would giggle at the unexpected meeting of tusks and lips. Things were a little clumsy at first but somehow, never awkward. Sergei had a charismatic warmth and gentleness to him that made you feel safe… and bold.

You were ready for Sergei right here, out in the open, and you could tell he felt the same.

Your heart pounded as his hand started to move slowly up your torso - stopping every few seconds as if he was sure you would stop him - until he gently rubbed a hand over your right breast, over your shirt. Your breath hitched. He paused, sure that you’d call it off now. He’d gone too far. Instead, you pulled back enough to look him in the eye. You smiled as slowly, you started to unbutton your shirt.

His eyes grew wide with surprise as he watched you. It was sweet. Clearly, this was just as out of character for him as it was for you. You gave him a little wink as you opened the shirt entirely and slipped it down your shoulders. You were glad you’d opted for the front-closing bra tonight. With a quick movement, you popped the clasp, baring your breasts. Sergei gasped and looked up at you as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. Slowly, almost reverently, he reached up to cup one in his hand. 

At a glance, Sergei might be described as brawny or rugged: well-suited to the physical labor required by his sculptures. As he began to run his thumb lightly across your nipple, back and forth in small circles, you doubted you’d ever been touched so gently. 

“That’s… Oh, god, that’s really nice,” you told him, barely above a whisper.

“You… are incredible,” he told you with absolute sincerity. “Beautiful.”

He was so sweet with you, so tender. You saw a question start to form on his lips. He started to speak again when suddenly- sounds of loud laughter caught your attention.

Some of the elves from the opening had found the staircase and the door he’d left propped open. Four of five were now wandering around the rooftop patio. They didn’t seem to notice the two of you… yet. But more were making their way up.

“ _ Shit _ !” you shout/whispered. You jumped up and away from Sergei as you frantically tried to get yourself together, smoothing your skirt and fussing with your shirt buttons. You caught Sergei’s eye and noticed a dark expression there. It looked like- hurt?

He had to know you were concerned about your current state of undress… right? What could he be thinking?

You hurried to finish dressing so that you could talk to him, reassure him that you were not done with him yet, but he’d already left the couch. Shit. You had to explain, but the rooftop had filled up quickly, and you couldn’t see him anywhere. If you could just get free of the crowd, you thought, just find him and talk to him...

With difficulty you made your way through the throng of elves (who didn’t even seem to see you) and back to the staircase that led back down to the gallery. You gave the rooftop one more careful scan, but saw no sign of him. You called his name but could barely even hear your own voice over the crowd.

You made your way back downstairs and peeked into hallways and rooms on your way out… but nothing.

Your heart sank. You really liked him. You hadn’t exchanged contact information or - you realized with a chuckle - last names. On your way out, you grabbed a business card with the gallery’s phone number.

***

A few days later you called the gallery. The owner was a little chilly, no doubt worried he was about to be edged out of a sale. He’d almost hung up on you. Seeing no other option, you told him something close to the truth. You had seen Sergei at the gallery opening and had developed a crush. You were dying to ask him out but you couldn’t work up the courage at the reception. You’d been regretting it ever since.

He didn’t need to know whether or not you had a passionate makeout session, or what clothing may or may not have been removed in the process…

At any rate, he gave up the number. You quickly scribbled it down before he rushed you off the phone to help “some paying customers” who had just walked in.

You stared at the phone number for at least ten minutes before deciding to call. Asking someone out who you barely knew - all of this was out of character for you. What were you doing?

You took a deep breath and dialed.

***

Sergei was in a  _ mood _ today.  He had been working in his studio for hours, and his piece just wasn’t quite coming together. It almost had. It had come so close. If only the 4” x 4” beam could twist the  _ slightest _ bit more, the angle would be just perfect for what he had in mind… That one piece would alter the entire structure.  But no. It couldn’t twist. He tried heat, water, his own considerable strength, and nothing had worked. Eventually, the damned chunk of wood had cracked in his hands.

Truth be told, he’d been in a  _ mood _ ever since the night of the gallery opening. Sergei had forgotten all of the bullshit that went along with dating humans. On some level, they could never get past the Orc thing. The woman he met seemed so sincere, so genuinely interested in him. Her attraction to him had been obvious by her scent, her smile... But the second other people had come around, she’d leapt away from him like he was a cockroach.

It was just as well, he told himself. His art career was really picking up and he needed to focus his time at his studio. Besides, if she learned about who he really was, what he’d done in what he called his “former life,” she’d never want to have anything to do with him.

Sergei looked down at the ruined beam. Maybe there was some potential in these broken pieces. Not everything had to be on a large scale: maybe he could repurpose the lumber. Just as he was considering new possibilities, his phone rang. An unknown number- odd.  The only people who ever called him were his mother or his gallery owner. He certainly wasn’t in the mood to talk to a salesperson.

“What?” He snapped in a gruff voice.

“Um,” started a hesitant female voice that sounded slightly familiar. “Hi, is this… Sergei?”

He brightened immediately, recognizing you.  _ If she’d gone to the trouble of finding out how to reach him, _ he thought,  _ maybe she really was interested _ . 

“Hey! Sorry about the greeting. I thought you were, ah, someone else.”

“No worries. Is this a good time?”

“Yeah, I can talk. I just got to a, um, stopping place on my current piece.” He brushed the woodchips off of his lap and stood up, subconsciously pacing as he talked. “I have to say, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you after...?”

“Right.” You giggled a little. “Things kind of ended… abruptly, didn’t they? Sorry about that. I was having a nice time.”

“You were, huh?” He was trying to act nonchalant, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “So was I.” He paused for a minute, afraid to ask the question on his mind. “I just figured you’d had second thoughts about, you know, being seen with an orc.”

Your heart sank- it  _ had _ been hurt you’d seen on his face that night.

“So, I don’t know if you remember, but I was kind of… half-naked when the elves found the rooftop?”

“Oh, I definitely remem-  _ Oh!” _

_ “ _ Tits all the way out.”

“Shit,” he chuckled. “Yeah.”

“It wasn’t anything about you. I promise. I tried to find you afterwards.”

He felt like an idiot for not considering human modesty, but he also felt relieved.

“I mean, I know that the orc/human stuff might make things more complicated, but…” You didn’t know what to say, so you tried to be as direct as possible. “I don’t know, I liked talking with you. I liked hearing you talk about your art. I liked… getting to know you.”  _ Gods, _ you thought,  _ I must sound like a moron. _

“I liked getting to know you, too.” Sergei was no longer trying to hide the grin from his voice. “Hey- I’m really glad you called.”

“So…” You swallowed hard. “I was hoping we could, maybe, see each other again? Maybe grab dinner or something?”

Sergei’s jaw literally dropped. He’d always thought that was just an expression. He loved when women were direct and to the point, but somehow he didn’t expect it from a human. Did you really just ask him out? He stole a glance in a nearby mirror and tried to suck in his belly a little. You’d only met each other one time. Why did he feel so giddy to talk to you? 

“Sergei? Hello, are you still there? Really, it’s fine if you don’t w-”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean,” he cleared his throat and tried to recover his nonchalant tone. “I mean, I’d love that. Hey- how do you feel about coffee? I know a great little spot.”

“I’m definitely pro-coffee. That sounds great! When’s a good day?"

You grabbed a pencil and bit your lip to keep from smiling too much as the two of you hashed out the whens and wheres and he gave directions to the coffee shop.  You stayed on the phone after that for close to an hour. You thought you could listen to his baritone voice all day long. Neither of you seemed to want the conversation to end.

***

You arrived at the coffee shop twenty minutes before your date. The coffee shop was in an unfamiliar part of town - an Orcish neighborhood - and you didn’t know if you might get lost or have trouble parking.

Not to worry. You’d found the coffee shop and parked with plenty of time to spare.

You placed your order - a “dirty” chai latte with soymilk - and picked a corner table that seemed private enough for a first date conversation.  _ First date _ . You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you sipped your drink - which was excellent. You played with your phone to distract yourself until Sergei showed up.

“Well, hey there, miss,” said a young, maybe mid-20s orc who was definitely  _ not  _ Sergei. He and another orc about the same age had approached your table and were pulling up chairs to join you. “We don’t see too many human girls show up by themselves here, do we, Sid?”

“Never. Not a one. At least not that I recall, Ty.” The orc that answered to Sid was squinting a little, regarding you with an almost scientific curiosity. “Ty” on the other hand was leaning towards you with a leer that made you deeply uneasy.

“I’m meeting someone in a few minutes. You’re welcome to sit until he shows up.” You tried to sound casual, but you wondered what they wanted.

“Well, ain’t that a nice offer?” said one - Ty - to the other. “Don’t mind if we do. Hey, I’m Ty, and this is my brother Sid. What do we call you?”

You told them your name, and shook their hands. You noticed a few other patrons looking your way every now and then. They seemed nervous about your interaction.

“You know… there’s usually only one reason human ladies come to this side of town,” smirked Ty. He moved his chair, nearly bumping into yours, then reached out and grabbed your hand, speaking in a low voice. “If you’re looking to ‘meet someone,’ well darling, you just met him.”

“That’s… nice of you, but I really am meeting someone.” you answered, trying to gently pull your hand back. He didn’t let go.

“Hey guys, back again?” said the barista, a stern female orc who clearly knew these two and did not have time for their bullshit. “You wanna order or what?”

“In a minute,” Ty said, never breaking eye contact with you. You tried to move your hand away, with a bit more force this time, but he held it in place. He laughed as he felt you try to struggle away. His brother was texting with someone. He wasn’t paying attention to the two of you, but he was standing next to your table, blocking any path you might take to leave.

“So,” Ty spoke again, “You wanna get out of here?” Suddenly you felt his other hand on your knee, under the table. You felt your anxiety spike. You had no way of removing yourself from the situation.

“ _ Fellas? _ ” came a deep voice from behind Ty. The one-word greeting was both a question and a warning.

_ Sergei _ , you recognized with relief. Apparently, Sid and Ty did, too. They reacted instantly. Sid took a step or two away from the table, shoving his phone in his pocket as he forced a smile. Ty sprang to his feet and tried to act casual. You exhaled, relieved but still shaky.

“Sergei, this is a nice surprise! We didn’t know this was a friend of yours. We were just keeping her company until you got here.”

Sergei ignored him and turned to you. “You okay?”

You were trying to process what was happening. Ty was a creep, but for some reason he was terrified of Sergei. Sergei, meanwhile, was speaking with a gravity that you didn’t recognize from your two previous conversations. You realized with a chill that there was a lot you didn’t know about Sergei.

“I’m good,” you said at last. “I think these guys were just leaving.” You had no interest in macho posturing, but you were grateful for a chance to defuse the situation. Sergei stared at Ty, who seemed frozen in place.

“Hey,” Ty started to protest. “We were just having some f-”

Sergei cut him off simply by taking two steps towards him.

“I think you heard my friend.”

Without another word, the two slunk out of the coffee shop. The entire establishment seemed to exhale. Sergei sighed deeply and sank into the seat Ty had just vacated, next to you. The stern barista who had spoken up earlier set a cup down in front of Sergei. He smiled as she did and pressed a bill into her hand.

“Thanks, Rosie.” He took a sip and closed his eyes. When he set the cup down and looked back at you, he flashed a soft smile and seemed like the artist you’d met at the gallery.  

You fixed him with furrowed brows and a questioning look.

“Oh, this?” He lifted the coffee cup with a grin. “I’m a regular here. I always get the same thing.”

“That… no, that wasn’t really my question.”

He nodded, hoping he wouldn’t have to go into too much detail. “Those guys. They’re Fogteeth members. You know, the gang?”

“I’ve heard of it,” you responded carefully.

“They’re just mixed up with some dangerous people. Hell they  _ are  _ dangerous. That guy who was sitting next to you? Not a nice guy at all.”

“I was picking up on that.”

He looked at you, suddenly concerned as if he’d picked up on something you were thinking.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

_ Who are you?!  _ you wanted to scream.

“Sergei- maybe this is none of my business but: those guys you just called ‘dangerous’? They were scared shitless when you said one word. They came in here like they ran the place, and as soon as you showed up, they scattered like cockroaches.” You were a little afraid of the answer to your next question. “How do you know them?”

His shoulders drooped: his whole body seemed to deflate. He hadn’t wanted to get into this yet, but he didn’t want to lie to you.

“Look,” he started, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve done some stuff in the past that, well, that I’m not proud of. My family back in Ukraine-” he shook his head. He seemed unsure of what - and how much - to say. “My people are the ones who kind of… call the shots for the Fogteeth, and other groups like them.”

“Other  _ gangs? _ ” You felt numb.

“Yeah. Other gangs. My people are from the old country. We- They started all of that bullshit. They supply the Fogteeth with the contraband they sell - drugs, weapons - and I used to sort of… keep on eye on them.” He kept looking at you, trying to gauge your reaction to what he was telling you. He paused and waited for you respond.

“Okay,” was all you could manage.

“I grew up in that world. It was all I knew for a long time, but when I had a chance to leave, I did. That was over ten years ago. I don’t even talk to those relatives anymore. I know how this makes me sound, but I promise: that’s not me. Not anymore. Okay?”

“What did you do? When you were part of it? What does ‘keeping an eye on things’ mean?”

He hung his head. He couldn’t look at you for this. He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to be so honest, and he certainly hadn’t meant for this to all come out now, but he felt like it was best to just get it out there. His feelings for you - though new - were strong, and he wanted to start out the right way: with honesty.

“I… was what they call an enforcer. I was being groomed for leadership roles eventually, but I started out doing kind of… physical work.”

“Physical work.” you repeated.

“I hurt people.” He was still looking down.

You felt like the room was spinning. What in the world were you doing here? Slowly you rose to your feet and started gathering your things.

“Listen: I hated that world, and I’ve never wanted to go back. Please believe me. You have to-” he placed a hand lightly on yours at this, trying to stop you from leaving, and the contact shook you out of your daze. You thought of Ty, not five minutes earlier, grabbing your hand and laughing as you struggled. You remembered being mugged, and the quarter-sized deep purple bruise on your wrist that had lasted for weeks. You thought of your last boyfriend, burning his cigarette into the soft skin of your inner arm until-  _ NO.  _ No more.

You looked at Sergei and shook your head. You couldn’t - you wouldn’t - be with someone who had that capacity for violence, ever again.

“I don’t even know who you are,” you said. “Leave me alone.” With that, you walked out the door.

Sergei just stared into his drink, crushed. He should have fucking known. He shouldn’t have let himself get so hopeful about this woman. This was never going to end any differently.


	3. Chapter 3

Sergei left the café about ten minutes after you did. He didn’t blame you for leaving. Not really. He told himself he’d be worried if his… “history” hadn’t given you any pause at all.

But he _was_ disappointed.

He waited two days, hoping you’d call him first, before finally sending you a text:

_Can we talk?_

A few tense hours later, you wrote back.

_It’s not a good time. Maybe later?_

His response came right away:

_Ok. I’ll be here when you’re ready._

Three weeks had passed since then. He supposed that was a pretty clear answer.

On the plus side, it had been a surprisingly productive period in his studio. The broken pieces from the beam he’d shattered - right before you had called to ask him out - had been incredibly fruitful. He was working on a third piece using the irregular shards of wood. He’d even started looking through discount piles of scrap lumber for other flawed pieces that might break in a similar way.

Today’s piece was his favorite. He attached the smallest pieces he had to a central core, so they seemed to radiate out. There was an effect of movement that he loved. It reminded him of photographs of tornadoes. Not quite finished, he stepped back to enjoy his progress.

His phone rang.

“Hello?” he answered eagerly, hoping...

“Yes, hi, can I speak to Sergei O- Olee… sorry, I can’t quite-” answered an unfamiliar male voice.

“Sergei Oliynyk, yeah, that’s me.”

“Hello! Sir, it’s a real honor. I’ve been following your career for some time. Have you heard of the Rock Creek Arts Festival?”

Sergei sat up a little straighter. He’d applied for the event every year for the past ten, and had been declined every time. Most of the communication with the event had cited “public safety concerns,” which was a coded term he knew too well. Still, every year his career grew a bit more, and every year he continued to apply.

“I have.”

“Well… we’ve had a last-minute artist cancellation, and- I know this is probably a long shot - but since you live in the area, and you just had that great show last month downtown. I’d like to invite you to show your work at our event next week.”

Sergei was silent. What was the catch?

“Are- How familiar are you with my work?”

“Oh! Very. I’m a huge fan. Really. I just joined the staff here about a month ago and honestly I’ve been hoping for a cancellation so that I could invite you out.”

“Do… you know that I’m an orc?”

A pause on the other end. Shit. He shouldn’t have said anything, just showed up and let them deal with it.

“Um… yes. I do.”

“And you know that if I bring my work, I will come, in person, to install it?”

Another pause.

“Sergei- I read those letters the former director sent you. I’m not sure why you’d still want to have anything to do with us after that, honestly, but that’s not how I feel. That was all from one guy, and he’s gone. None of us even knew- but that’s not important. Look, the bottom line is this: I want you at my festival.”

Sergei considered this. Festivals weren’t always high prestige places to show work, but he knew the clientele here and thought he’d do well. Make some connections.

“When should I be there?”

***

You had fully intended to write Sergei back. The first time he’d texted, you were at work and it really was a bad time. But every time you picked up your phone since then to text him back, you felt overwhelmed with conflicting emotions and lost your nerve. Again and again, you put off the text for another day.

In the meantime, you had started to wonder if you had made a mistake in lumping Sergei together with all the men in your life who had hurt you. He’d been honest about everything, with no evasion. That was something. You really wanted to believe him. But how could you? You’d placed your trust in people who didn’t deserve it before. And you’d paid for it.

But Sergei wasn’t them.

Sergei wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met before. He was funny and thoughtful, and he was interesting to talk to. When you talked, he really listened to you in a way few ever had. You enjoyed his company. You were fascinated by his ability to take crude materials and make beautiful, soaring sculptures. Not only that, but your attraction to him was strong and, you suspected, mutual.

A few words in that deep baritone… the way his golden eyes pierced right through you… remembering the way he kissed and held you… even the thought of him made you wet.

But that wasn’t enough. You didn’t know how to get past this.

Today, you and your friend Tracey, a civil rights lawyer who had been your college roommate, had taken a short drive to an art festival in a nearby town. She knew all about your abusive ex. You had told her most of what had happened with Sergei, and she was trying to encourage you to move on, or at least forget about it for a few hours. What you needed, she said, was a change of scenery. As you pulled up to the parking lot, you looked out over the sprawling crowds and rows of colorful tents.

She was probably right, you figured.

Making your way through the festival, you stopped to try samples of coffee and cinnamon pecans, and pore over handmade jewelry and ceramics. Your friend was trying to talk herself into buying a hand-dyed scarf. It really was nice to be out.

Just beyond the row of vendors’ tents, your eye was drawn to an open grassy area- a sculpture field. You frowned as you caught yourself scanning the larger works for something that looked like Sergei’s. Get it together, you told yourself. You turned your focus back to Tracey, but she was already looking at you with raised eyebrows.

“Really?” She asked.

“I know, I know. I was just-” You shook your head.

“The point of today is to get your mind off old what’s-his-name, remember? He’s not here, he wasn’t on the artist list on the website or anything. This is girl time, okay?”

You nodded. “Girl time, got it.” You flashed her a smile, trying to look more lighthearted than you felt, and Tracey seemed to pick up on it.

“I really am sorry that didn’t work out. I know how excited you were ab - hey! Watch it, assholes!”

Tracey yelled as a group of drunk college students crashed into you, laughing and nearly knocking you both down. Tracey - never the shrinking violet - was already giving them a piece of her mind. As you tried to regain balance, you nearly tripped over a small Yorkshire terrier, whose owner shot you an ugly look. Suddenly the festival felt uncomfortably crowded.

“Mind if we go out into that open area? It’s getting a little crowded.” Tracey agreed.

The open area was divided into two sides, with the spacious sculpture park in the middle. On one side: a children’s arts-and-crafts tent and a stage where an earnest singer-songwriter was currently pouring her heart out to a small but equally earnest audience. Directly adjacent to the children’s arts-and-crafts tent was a first-aid area and a security checkpoint, complete with a police “cherry picker” style lift that hovered above the crowds. On the other side of the sculpture park was the food court, with various food and drink vendors and too few rows of picnic tables. Tracey wanted to hear the performer, so you wove a path through the sculpture field to get closer to the stage.

On the way, you stopped suddenly. A piece of art had caught your eye. You told Tracey to go on ahead, you’d find her. She shrugged and told you to head for the right side of the stage.

Displayed on a small platform, the piece was about the size of a blender, a funnel-shaped conglomerate of small shreds of wood. The piece was still, but the way the wood pieces were fixed to the central form, the funnel almost seemed to rotate. It felt like the piece might, at any moment, either spin itself out into pieces or take flight.

It was utterly hypnotic.

You walked to the other side of the pedestal where the label was. Maybe you were discovering a new hobby, you thought… Maybe you really had an eye for art. You found the label and read:

> _What’s Left Behind_
> 
> _Cedar and Bronze_
> 
> _Sergei Oliynyk_
> 
> _$7500_

You laughed drily, out loud. Fucking of course it was Sergei’s work. The only piece you’d noticed in a festival thirty miles from where you lived - of course.

“Something funny?”

You nearly lept out of your skin at Sergei’s voice.

“Sorry,” he said with a shy smile, keeping his distance. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Holy shit! Um… hi. I didn’t see your name on the artist list? This is quite a surprise.”

“You’re telling me,” he laughed. “The festival had a last minute cancellation and they invited me out. What’re you doing here?”

“My friend Tracey - she’s up at the stage - she thought it would be fun to get out of town for a day trip. So here we are.” Meeting yet again at one of your sculptures.

You looked at each other for a few seconds that felt much longer. Sergei didn’t seem angry or defensive at all. He seemed genuinely pleased to see you. You, on the other hand, felt incredibly guilty.

“Hey, Sergei, I’m really sorry I never texted or called you back. I really am.”

“It’s okay. Really. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I did want to talk to you. I wanted to explain someth-”

Sergei shook his head and started to reassure you but loud voices drew both of your attention away from the conversation. It was the group of loud drunks from earlier. They were yelling, running around, being generally obnoxious. One of them had climbed halfway up the police’s cherry picker. You wondered where the police officers were that were supposed to be stationed there. You rolled your eyes and turned back to Sergei, but you saw a strange look in his eyes that stopped you.

His eyes narrowed. You saw a slight twitch of his ears. Something was going on.

“Gods dammit they’re gonna get somebody killed,” he muttered, walking swiftly over to where they were.

Suddenly, you saw what Sergei did: the guy on the cherry picker was swaying back and forth. The whole thing was about to topple - and land on the children’s arts-and-crafts tent. The flimsy metal tent poles would collapse immediately. There had to be at least eighty people inside.

From a loudspeaker announcement, you noticed that the festival’s three police officers were busy with something at the stage.

“Guys, you wanna get off that thing?” Sergei asked in a stern but even tone, still walking towards the group. You were a few paces behind. The guy swaying back and forth off the lift seemed pretty shocked to see the large orc rushing towards him, but he just laughed.

“Hey, look guys, an orc who’s an artist! I didn’t know- Aah, shit!” As he spoke, the lift gave way and pitched over, just as you thought, towards the children’s tent. The guy who’d been on it jumped off and joined his friends, who were laughing loudly and sitting on the ground. Sergei reached it just in time, throwing his body underneath the lift to keep it from hitting the tent.

Even with an orc’s considerable strength, you could tell Sergei was straining under the weight. The police officers at the stage were now making their way towards the commotion, but even if they got there in time, you doubted they could stop it falling.

“What can I do?!” you asked.

“The… kids… In the tent,” he managed. You ran in, and someone who looked in charge stopped you. You explained as quickly as you could. This “tent manager” blew a whistle and directed the kids and families to “exit immediately in a calm and timely manner. We need to evacuate the tent.”

Fortunately, the tent had closed sides. This meant that people only saw the danger once they were clear of it, which helped avoid panic. By the time the last volunteers had left, the police were on site, confused, and Sergei’s arms were visibly shaking under the stress.

“Everyone’s out!” you yelled, but you didn’t know how he could safely drop the lift without getting crushed underneath it. You walked up to him and grabbed his elbow. “Just push it up for a second and I’ll… pull you this way.”

He looked at you doubtfully, but his arms were about to give way and he didn’t have time to come up with a different plan. He did as you said, giving the cherry-picker one last heave upward, then lunging towards you as you pulled on his arm. The lift landed on the tent with an awful crash, and Sergei landed - unhurt - on top of you on the ground.

You didn’t hate the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

“Are you okay?” he asked. You laughed, a little delirious.

“Me?! Sergei, shit! I’m fine- but I’m not the one who just threw themselves under a big chunk of police equipment. Are you okay?!”

He just laughed and nodded, rising to his feet before helping you up. He picked a piece of grass out of your hair and dropped it on the ground.

“Jesus Sergei, you could have gotten really hurt just then, you know?” He just shrugged.

“I didn’t think about it, I just saw that thing about to fall… ah, my arms feel like jello!” He shook them out, still seeming remarkably nonchalant about everything.

“Allright, sir, you’re going to need to come with us,” spoke a stern voice from behind Sergei.

The police officers had handcuffs ready: what was going on?

“Officers, can I help you?” His voice was calm and even.

“Listen, pal. You just destroyed police property and put dozens of lives at risk. We’re gonna have to take you in.”

The families from the tent were still gathered and were staring on, confused. You wondered why they didn’t speak up for the guy who had just saved them from serious injury or worse.

Calmly, and without a word, Sergei offered up his wrists.

“Sergei,” you called out, “What are you doing? Officers, listen: He just stopped a bunch of people from getting hurt. Those drunk jerks over there-” you gestured to an empty spot in the grass. They’d split when the police arrived. “Well, there were drunk jerks, and they knocked over the lift. Please, listen-“

“Ma’am, you need to calm down and let us do our job. We’ll get the story down at the station.”

“It’s okay,” Sergei said to you, unconvincingly. “It will be okay.”

Bullshit, you thought. You knew what kind of “due process” orcs were afforded.

“What is this?” asked Tracey, who had materialized seemingly out of nowhere. Most of the attendees seemed to be slowing gathering around the area, you noticed.

“Tracey! Thank god. Can you help please? Do some lawyer magic? They’re about to arrest Sergei and he hasn’t done anything.”

“Wait… Is _that_ the guy? I swear to god he wasn’t on the website for this festival. How is he here? What’s he getting arrested for?”

“Oh my god, I’ll tell you everything, but please can you-?”

She gave your shoulder a reassuring pat then ran to speak to the officers, out of earshot. Several minutes passed and then one of the officers returned to - reluctantly - remove Sergei’s cuffs and tell him he was free to go. The cuffs had left marks, even though they weren’t on very long. Sergei rubbed his wrists.

Tracey came back with a triumphant smile. “Sometimes, people just soften right up if you tell them those three little words: ‘‘civil rights attorney.’” She winked at you.

Sergei approached the two of you and extended an arm to Tracey, introducing himself.

“Thank you, I heard you talking to those officers. I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem. Here’s my card, okay? You let me know if you ever need anything.”

He nodded and slipped the card into his breast pocket. You were relieved that Sergei was okay. Suddenly, you really wanted to explain to him about your past. You noticed the police officers - and more than a few others - still casting suspicious glances toward Sergei.

“Hey,” you asked him, pretending not to notice,  “do you want to walk back to where your work is?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Oh, hey,” Tracey said, giving you a not-so-subtle wink. “Look at the time. I’m late for.. Walking over there.”

The two of you looked at each other, not sure what to do next.

“Sergei, are you really okay?”

“You don’t know too many orcs, do you? We’re pretty resilient. I’m fine, really.” With that, he gave you a lopsided grin and raised one elbow. You weaved your hand into the crook of his arm - it was an old-fashioned gesture but you liked it - and he led you back to the sculpture field. After a minute or so he stopped and picked another piece of grass out of your hair.

“Human hair,” he said. “It’s really fascinating, you know?”

“Well, you don’t have to blow it dry every morning.”

He frowned and considered that. “I guess not. Does that take a while?”

“What?” you laughed.

“I don’t know. I have a feeling you’re gonna give me some bad news and I just… wanted to keep talking to you as long as I could, before that.”

“I just really wanted to explain something. You were so honest with me, so I wanted to tell you... There was a reason I reacted like that.”

“Really, you don’t have to explain. I‘m - I was - A criminal. I get it.”

You bristled and stopped in your tracks, bringing him to a stop as well.

“No, that’s not it. It’s important to me to explain it, okay?”

He looked at you for a few seconds.

“Okay.” He took a seat in a nearby folding chair. You sat in a chair next to him and took a deep breath.

“Here’s the deal. I have… gone through some shit. With my last relationship. He was… physical with me.” _God_ , you thought, _why can’t I just say it?_ “He hit me. More than a few times. It ended about eight months ago, but, well, it was bad. When that Ty guy wouldn’t let go of me… and then you told me about your past- it just brought up a lot of stuff.”

You were able to get through it without crying or making inappropriate jokes - your therapist would be proud - but you felt incredibly vulnerable.

Sergei looked at you, considering what you had said. Letting it sink in. Humans were so fragile, he thought. It made him feel angry and deeply sad to think of you enduring that, but he knew you wouldn’t want his pity, and he hadn’t earned the right to be protective of you. With this new information, he couldn’t blame you at all for your reaction. He also realized that this was the second time he’d made an unfair assumption about you.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I’m sorry that happened to you, and I’m glad you’re okay now. I get it. I get why you ran out like that.”

You softened. “Well for what it’s worth, I really am sorry about that. But it might have been for the best. I’m not an… easy person to be with. You might have dodged a bullet.” You tried to laugh as you said that last bit, but it just sounded sad.

He looked at you for a few seconds, and then at his piece, just a few feet away.

“I nearly threw this one away. The wood from another piece broke, right in my hands, and a couple of huge chunks just… fell out of it.”

Why was he talking about this? You wondered. You’d just opened up to him and all he could talk about was his own work? You went with it, maybe it really was for the best that things hadn’t worked out.

“Are those the broken pieces?” you asked. “It’s like you used them as the focal point instead of a flaw. I like that.”

‘I mean that’s the trick with these sculptures. You can’t always make the wood bend differently. You can’t even predict it sometimes. But if you accept it as it is, the forms it gives you, sometimes you find something great. A lot of times, it turns out even better than what you thought you wanted.”  

You just looked at him

“Kind of like people,” he finished, nudging you gently with his elbow.

You gave him a sideways glance.

You think of how calm he was when the police tried to arrest him. How he had leapt in to keep the lift from falling without a second’s hesitation. How despite some pretty intense events, he took a moment to contemplate the nature of human hair. You remembered his gentle touch and deep kisses on the roof of the gallery. He wasn’t some monster. But trust was hard to build.

You swallowed hard and locked eyes with him.

“Sergei, do you think we could we try that cup of coffee again?”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” you said with a giggle. “I’m not. but… we could try? Go slow, just coffee.”

Sergei paused before responding, but a broad smile spread across his face.

“I’d really like that, Y/N.”

Slowly, he reached a hand toward yours, not quite touching you. You reached out to hold it. The two of you stayed in your chairs, watching the crowds in silence, until it was time to go.


	4. Chapter 4

Your second coffee date with Sergei started out pretty similar to the first. You were the first to arrive, and the same corner table you’d picked the first time was the only one open. You pulled out your phone to distract you while you waited, although, this time, no one approached you while you did.

In fact, you could almost swear that the other people in the cafe were giving you a little extra space.

When Sergei walked in it seemed like the whole energy of the room shifted - brightened. You waved and he saw you right away, flashing a bright smile. Despite your best efforts, you could feel your pulse start to race as soon as he approached. He would be able to tell. You tried to calm yourself before he reached the table.

“Do you ever get the feeling of deja vu?” he asked, pulling up the same chair he had a month ago.

“Hi, Sergei,” you laughed. You noticed an odd layer of dust on his pants. “Working in the studio today?”

“Yeah, I got a little carried away and almost lost track of- oh, dammit.” He looked down and saw sawdust covering his pants. “Wow,” he said to himself, then turned back to you: “Please excuse me for a minute?”

While Sergei was in the restroom, the barista who had served him last time - was it Rosie? - came by with his drink.

“He’s a friend of mine,” she said, setting his drink on the table without looking at you.

“Oh. Cool.” 

“He’s a really good guy,” she said cautiously. You furrowed your brow. What was this?

You wondered if she remembered you walking out on him the last time you were in here. It was over a month ago, but you were the only human in the building. Seeing one walk out on your friend might be pretty memorable. You noticed that she was staring at you.

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that,” you answered finally.

“He’s done a lot of good for a lot of us here on this side of town. Not many orcs have done what he’s done: made a name for themselves and then try to lift up the rest of us. It’s thanks to him that this place is even still open. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t.” You were surprised by this and wanted to ask more, but her tone had an edge to them that made you uneasy. Why was she telling you this?

“Yep. Some Fogteeth idiots bought the building and tried to lean on us for protection money, so Sergei bought it out from underneath them. He didn’t even tell me himself. I found out when a letter came notifying tenants of the change in ownership. Anyway, sweetie, I’m glad to see him happy, but I just want you to know that he has a lot of friends here who would,” she leaned in close to you, “hate to see him judged for something he  _ used _ to be.”

Obviously she  _ did _ remember the last time you were here. 

“Orcs have good ears.” At that, hers gave a little twitch and she headed back to stand behind the bar. A few seconds later Sergei emerged from the restroom, looking much less dusty.

 

“Sorry about that, I changed my shirt, but not my pants after the studio and- Wow, you look gorgeous.” The way he said it - like the fact had just struck him - was so genuine that you felt your cheeks burn at the compliment. You were a professional adult woman and Sergei had you blushing like a teenager. 

“Thank you. You, too, by the way,” you told him.

“So, tell me everything. How was work? Where were you born? How do you feel about cilantro?”

“What? What do those questions have to do with each other?”

“I don’t know. They were the first three I thought of.”

“Well okay, um… work was busy but it went quick, which was nice. I was born here, in this city, and I  _ really  _ like cilantro. Put it on everything. You?”

“Work was good, but apparently more messy than I realized; I was born in Kiev, in Ukraine, although we moved when I was a baby; and it’s not my favorite.”

“Ah. Okay.”

“Wait. Crap. Is cilantro a deal-breaker?” he asked with a grin.

“Absolutely. Did you miss my “I brake for cilantro” bumper sticker?” 

“Shit, I’m already messing this up. My mom grows tons of it in her greenhouse. I won’t eat it but I can make you a cilantro salad with extra cilantro,  _ and  _ cilantro dressing.”

You laughed. “I think I’ll get past it.”

“Good, because that salad sounds awful.”

You shrugged. “More for me.”

The two of you ended up talking and laughing together until the coffee shop closed and Rosie started turning off lights. He asked you to meet again in another week and you agreed. You getting to know Sergei this way. It felt really old-fashioned, but nice. He was respectful of every boundary you set, and he was really great company.

The next week, it was raining by the time you left, and you didn’t have an umbrella. Sergei lent you his jacket and you caught yourself wearing it most of the week.

The third week in a row that you met, you arrived to find the cafe closed for a private event. Sergei offered to take you to dinner instead, at an Italian place close to his gallery. The clientele was mostly human, but the layout made the booths feel private and cozy. As you enjoyed your meal, you were surprised to find that he was quite knowledgeable about wine.

“Sergei, is there anything you  _ don’t _ know about?” you asked him, impressed.

“Well, I kind of failed my History of Magic class in high school,” he paused and looked you directly in the eye. “I’m also not quite sure how you feel about me.”

“Oh…”

“I’m not trying to put any pressure on you. But I want to lay my cards on the table: I like you. A lot. I’ve really been enjoying the past few weeks. If you’re not interested, well, I just want to know. I’m not opposed to a friendship. I just… want to know where you are.”

You took a deep breath.

“I… am definitely interested in you, Sergei.”

Sergei reached for your hand and you squeezed back.

“I’m really  _ really _ happy to hear that,” he told you with a smile. “Would you like to come over to my house this weekend? I could cook you some dinner, show you my studio, give you a tour of my mother’s cilantro. You know, all the highlights.”

“Would you quit with the cilantro?” you teased. It had become a running joke. “Dinner at your place sounds nice.”

***

Five days later, in the early afternoon, you rang the bell and waited at the stoop of Sergei’s house, a comfortably-sized farmhouse set back at the end of a long, winding driveway. The house wasn’t huge, but it had plenty of privacy, surrounded by acres of wooded land on all sides.

You were surprised when a short, round female orc answered the door wearing an apron and a colorful scarf tied over her head. You blinked.

“Ah- hello, ma’am. Is Sergei here? We have-”

“ _ SERGEI _ !” She called out, followed by a stream of what you assumed was Bodzvokhan.

“I’m coming, Ma!” He shouted in return from the top of a staircase. “Ask her in, please!”

Sergei’s mother took a step back from the doorway and gestured with her hand for you to come inside. As you walked in, you swore she gave you the subtlest wink. You smiled at her and wished you had thought to look up some basic small talk in her language.

Finally, Sergei made his way down. He was wearing a crisp button-down short-sleeve shirt and a stylish pair of jeans. His mother frowned up at him and said something that must have meant “bend down” because he lowered his head right away. She squinted her eyes and examined his face carefully, then licked her thumb and began rubbing vigorously at a spot on his left cheek.

Sergei looked mortified but sat patiently for a few moments as you tried not to giggle. He stood a good foot and a half taller than her, but she clearly had his respect. Aside from their height, they looked a lot alike. Same dimples, same round belly, they even had similiar facial expressions.

He was trying to be patient but he looked mortified.

“Okay, ma. Ma! I think you got it.” He told her gently, holding her hand in his to stop her spit bath. and bent lower to press his forehead against hers for a few seconds. It was a tender, respectful gesture that you had never seen before. When he rose back up to his full height, he was nearly a foot and a half taller than her. “This is Y/N, remember? The one I told you about?”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Oliynyk,” you said. The smaller orc looked at you closely, then scanned you up and down, flaring her nose a few times. You wondered what she could tell about you through smell. After her brief inspection she looked back in your eyes and smiled - approvingly? She patted Sergei’s cheek and told him something that you couldn’t understand. She reached in her pocket and handed him a small brown paper bag, which made him roll his eyes and blush.

She grabbed a handbag and the two exchanged a few more words before she headed out the door, closing it behind her.

“So… that was your mom, huh?”

Sergei chuckled.

“Yeah.”

“It looks like you guys are close.”

“We are. I’m lucky.” He smiled at some private memory. “My dad died about a year ago and I invited her to move in after that. It’s been… an adjustment, but I love that we have this time together. It hasn’t been totally smooth, but I feel like I’m getting to know her in a whole different way now that I’m an adult, you know?”

You glanced at him a few times as he spoke, touched. You remembered her interaction with Sergei before they left and laughed.

“Did I say something funny?”

“Not at all. It’s really sweet the way you are with her. I was just thinking of her fussing over you- what did she say to you right before we left?”

“Oh.” To your surprise he seemed a little nervous. “She, um, said you were pretty.”

You were doubtful.

“Really. So what’s in the bag?”

“Oh, this? Just some cookies for later- Hey! Do you want to see my studio? It’s outside,” he said too quickly, setting the bag down on the counter and walking toward a large glass sliding door. You followed but you heard your stomach rumble. Cookies sounded great. You reached into the bag.

“Mind if I have one of those cookies now, though? I’m- Oh!” 

He stopped in his tracks and looked at you.

“Yeah.”

You had glanced briefly in the bag and the words “prophylactic” and “orc-sized” were now seared on the inside of your eyelids. You were speechless for a second, then walked over to Sergei and wrapped your arms around him.

“Your mom gave you a bag full of condoms?”

“Yeah…” He seemed mortified. “That’s mom. She used to volunteer as a safer sex educator. I was the only orc in school whose mom packed sexual health brochures in his lunches.”

“Wow.” Your own mother was a devoutly religious woman whose “sex talk” had been a reminder that god was always watching. “You and I had very different childhoods. Does this mean she likes me?”

“I think she’s just happy I’ve started seeing someone. But I do think she likes you. I told her about how funny and smart and-” He paused mid-sentence. Suddenly he looked at the paper bag, stricken. “Oh shit- wait! I’m not expecting… Or assuming… anything from today, okay? I’m not just some-“

You rose up on your toes to stop him with a kiss.

“It’s cool. The first time we met I took off my shirt in a public place so relax. I’m not offended. Besides, it’s cool that your mom is so open with you about that stuff.”

“Is it, though?” he deadpanned.

You laughed as he led you out the door to see his studio.

***

His art studio was impressive, not that you had many to compare it with. It was separated from the house by a short walk through a wooded area. The studio was a large outdoor building, like a converted shed, but with a footprint of about 30’ x 20’. Arranged along one side was an assortment of raw materials: lumber, metal, and boxes full of various nails and screws. In the center there were some heavy-duty power tools. At the back was a desk with dozens of sketches or plans stuck to the metal wall with magnets. Along another wall was a pegboard rack heavy with hanging tools. The hammers and mallets looked bigger and heavier than what you’d seen before. You wondered if Sergei himself had custom built these.

He walked you through the space and described the different tools, told stories about studio mishaps, and walked you through a little of his process. He lit up like a lamp when he showed you plans for a future piece and you asked questions about it.

It was all Greek to you, honestly, but his excitement at sharing this part of his life with you was evident, and you liked seeing him so enthusiastic and happy.

“Well,” he said at the end of his tour, beaming proudly, “what do you think?”

You looked around, taking it all in.

“It’s amazing, Sergei. I love it. You’ve got a great setup.”

He puffed up at your words, and you were touched that your opinion meant something to him. 

A warm look crept in his eyes as you held his gaze. You stepped closer to him.

Gingerly, he brushed his fingers lightly across your cheek. The contact gave you a rush. You wrapped your hands around his waist again and tilted your head upwards. You saw his nostrils flare again and a flicker of a smile before he leaned down, pulling you in for a kiss.

His kiss felt electric. Your body tingled, your pulse raced. Lips bumped into tusks a few times but neither of you minded. You wrapped your arms around his torso to pull him closer and he responded with an appreciative growl. The rumbling noise seemed to vibrate through your whole body. You definitely wanted to feel that sensation again.

Eventually you pulled away and looked him in the eye. You were both flushed, trying to catch your breath. 

“So… how long to we have the house to ourselves?”

“Hours, at least. She’s going to the Community Center and then shopping. She’ll be out until late in the evening.”

You flashed him a mischievous look.

“Good. Suddenly I feel like trying some of those  _ cookies _ .”

He laughed loudly, then scooped you up in his arms - causing you to burst into laughter as well. You took advantage of the chance to hold onto his broad shoulders as the two of you headed back toward the house.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead. Smutty smut. And feelings. You have been warned!

Sergei carried you until you reached the house and the sliding glass door presented a challenge. After that the two of you wove a clumsy path to his room, unable to tear yourselves away from each other long enough to walk in a straight line. You kept backing him against walls to kiss him passionately, and he kept letting you. Once you’d made it inside his room, both of you shed your clothes until you were down to your bra and pantries and he was in just a T-shirt and boxers.  You took a step back from him.

“You’re sure you want to do this, right?” He asked.

You were, and wanted to show him. With a flirty smile, you reached back to unhook your bra, letting it fall to the ground as he watched.

“I’m sure I want to do this,” you told him.

He looked at you hungrily.

“Oh my gods…” he whispered, reaching up to caress one of your breasts. Just like that first night at the balcony, he lightly strummed one of his thumbs across your nipple, back and forth. It made you crazy.

He started to bend down to suck at your nipple but you stepped away from him again, drawing a soft whimper. You reached his bed and laid down, playing with the hem of your lace panties, and watching him watch you with that hungry look.

“You wanna help me out of these?”

He smiled and walked slowly over to you, sitting on the bed by your hips. He hooked his thick index fingers under the thin fabric covering your hips, then bent down so that his lips were almost touching your navel. Your heart pounded. He opened his mouth and carefully hooked his tusks in the lace as well. One of them poked a small hole in the fabric but you didn’t care.  With his tusks he pulled your pantries down, so slowly, then tossed them aside and stood at the foot of the bed, watching you. You bit your lip and drew your knees up a little, an instinct.

Sergei put one of his large, rough hands lightly on each knee and eased your thighs apart, taking a minute to drink in the sight of you naked and exposed before him.

You saw his nostrils flare.

He smiled and climbed into bed with you. You kissed him, wrapping your arms and legs around him, loving the feeling of being so close to him, finally. His hard cock bumped against your stomach. You were getting wetter by the minute. As he covered your face and neck with kisses and nibbles you noticed that his teeth were sharper than you thought.  You gasped the first time they scratched your skin. He pulled back and looked at you.

It had been a long time since Sergei had been with a human, and he’d forgotten a few things.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Human skin is so soft but it’s so fragile, and I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“It’s okay.”

“You know that if anything doesn’t feel right at anytime, you can tell me and we’ll stop, okay? You won’t hurt my feelings.”

“Okay.” You looked him in the eyes. With your arms wrapped around him, you reached under the hem of his t-shirt so that you could feel his skin against yours.

“I want this, Sergei. I want _you_.”

He just smiled and looked at you. He traced a finger lightly along your body, traveling down from your neck almost to your pussy, then all around the insides of your thighs. He liked watching you writhe and whimper below him, smelling you as your desire climbed.

You had a question you weren’t quite sure how to ask.

“Hey… Sergei? Is there anything I need to know? This is my, um, first time with an orc.”

“Oh. I don’t think so,” he answered with a light giggle, surprised. “The basics are pretty much the same.” There was, of course, one difference that his previous human lovers had commented on, but he thought it might seem like bragging to mention it.

“I mean, that thing where you took off my panties with your tusks was pretty hot.”

“You liked that, huh?”

“Yeah, I realy did.”

He kissed you deeply then left a trail of kisses leading down your neck, chest, and abdomen. He moved in between your legs and you opened them wider, eagerly.

“Is this okay? If I-“

“Oh gods, yes.”

Without further ado he traced a finger up and down your soaking slit and pulled open your swollen folds. Your anticipation was so high by this point that this simple contact brought you almost to climax, even before his tongue touched you.

When it did, it felt like electricity coursed through your whole body, down each limb. He alternated between soft and stronger pressure,  circles, side-to-side, and vertical movements, lingering on the techniques that made you… respond. Only one of your former lovers had gone down you. He had seemed so grossed out that you felt embarrassed and never asked for it after that. To your delight, Sergei seemed to enjoy this as much as you did, sucking and licking at you with abandon.

As soon as he found a good rhythm, he slipped a thick finger inside you, drawing a loud cry from your lips. He curled and thrusted in time with his tongue. It felt so good, so intense. Your hands flew down to your sides, clenching fistfuls of sheets.

Just when you thought the sensations were almost too much, he began to hum with his mouth on you: a low, growling sound that sent delicious vibrations to every part of your cunt. He repeated this over and over.

“Ah, Sergei _yes! Oh my gods!”_ You cried out. “Oh I love what you’re doing- I’m so close, so close- _Ahh! YES!”_

Sergei grabbed both of your hands, holding them- and you- still as your orgasm pulsed through you in white-hot waves.

It felt like it lasted forever.

Finally, you felt the waves subside. With effort you managed to whimper, “Okay, baby.” He stopped and gave your inner thighs a few kisses before returning to lay next to you, carefully watching you.

“That was… _mmmm….”_ you told him, scrambling for words but hoping you were clear.

“Glad to hear it.” He brushed a few pieces of hair out of your face. “You’re so beautiful.”

He was still wearing his shirt and boxers, you noticed.

“Hey,” you slurred, still a little delirious from your orgasm and tugging at his shirt, “why’d you have so many clothes on?”

He tugged it back down. “Ah, I don’t know.”

“I want to see you.”

He looked a little nervous.

“Okay, but- could we turn the lights off first?”

“Yeah, if you want.” Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and your tone softened. “Why? Are you self-conscious?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just-” He looked at you for a few seconds, seemingly trying to make a decision ; then shook his head. “Ah, fine.” he said.

At that he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the ground: as he did, he kept his eyes downcast.

You gasped. Not at his body, which you thought was perfect, from his broad shoulders down to the pudge of his belly. What made you gasp was the series of tattoos and scars that ran across it. Large Bodzvokhan letters crossed both pecs. Above them there were a series of vertical scars grouped in series of five. It looked like a count of… something. You promised yourself that you’d never ask about them. More concerning was the series of longer scars carved into his left shoulder and across his torso. Irregular jagged lines that crossed each other. Those you wondered about. Had he been in an accident? Had someone- or something- attacked him? You put a hand lightly on his chest and his breath hitched.

“This shit - _all_ of this - is from my past. As much as I try to live differently now, I’ll never be able to leave it all behind. I mean, look at me.” The whole time he spoke, he looked down, away from you.”I wanted to wait as long as I could before you saw it.”

You touched his cheek lightly and he gave you a questioning look. You honestly didn’t know what to say, but you were moved by his vulnerability. You leaned up to kiss his cheek. He said your name softly as you continued, kissing down his neck and placing your hand lightly on his chest. That this gentle person had been involved in a life of violence meant that the circumstances of his life had likely been limited, or traumatic. Now that you knew him, you could never judge him for how he’d grown up.

Slowly, you kissed each one of his tattoos and then looked back at him.

“I didn’t know you then, Sergei. You’ve been through things I won’t ever fully understand. But I know who you are now: a strong, gentle person who respects every boundary I set, who laughs easily and who turns broken pieces of raw lumber into beautiful, graceful art. You’ve never given me even one reason not to trust you, and believe me, I’ve been looking for them. And I might still be wrong but, honey, I’m willing to take a risk on you. The Sergei I know is amazing. Decent. Funny. Kind. That’s the person I fell in love with.”

As you finished your eyes went wide. _Oh shit oh shit OH SHIT did i just say-?_

He pulled you to him and kissed you, holding you as close as he could.

“I love you, too.” he told you in a whisper. He’d been thinking about saying it and was surprised you’d said it first. You never ceased to amaze him.

He gave you another deep kiss then took off his boxers and reached for the brown bag of “cookies,” rolling a condom down his thick shaft while your eyes went wide for the second time. He was enormous- definitely bigger than anyone you’d been with before. Suddenly you wondered if this was going to work.

He seemed to pick up on your nerves. He turned to face you.

“We don’t have to do this, remember?” He asked.

“No, I want to. It’s just… um, you are huge.”

He blushed - you didn’t know orcs did that.

You couldn’t wait anymore. You straddled him where he sat, both of you naked now. Sergei watched you as you ran your hands up and down his body, exploring. As he felt your desire start to grow again he reached down to stroke your clit, enjoying your gasps and moans as he worked you.

“Mmm, I think you’re almost ready for me.”

“Let’s find out.”

He rubbed himself up and down along your entrance. You helped make sure he was aimed just right, gripped him and then- you sank down, slowly, taking every inch of him.

A deep moan escaped your lips. You’d never felt so full, so stretched. There was a twinge of pain mixed with your pleasure and you stayed still for a moment to adjust. He let out another of his low growling moans and you felt the sound rumble through you.

“You okay?” He asked in a whisper.

“Yeah.” Finally you started moving, rocking your hips as you straddled him. He matched your movements and the two of you fell into a rhythm. He started slow and easy, but you wanted him to let go a little.

“Mmm, Sergei, you feel so good inside me.”

“ _Gods_ you’re so damn _tight_.”

“Mmm... _”_

“Oh yeah? You like the way this feels, baby?”

“Ahh… Yeah, Sergei, I love it.”  You grasped against him while you rode him. “Ahh, gods, do you think you could go a little harder?”

“You want me to fuck you harder, huh?”

With a devilish grin, Sergei withdrew himself then flipped you around so that you were lying on your back with him above you. Giving a growl of pleasure, he entered you again carefully. It went easier this time, but you felt just as full. You wound your legs around him to take him as deeply as you could. He began pumping his hips, working up to a more forceful pace at your encouragement.

The noises he made while he fucked you - the moans and growls - drove you absolutely wild. He coaxed your first orgasm out of you easily, then gave you a little time before continuing. As you built up the second time, Sergei started whispering some of the dirtiest talk you’d heard in your life. You moaned in response, calling out his name and describing a few things you’d like him to do to you.

You wanted this to last forever, but the way he was pushing into you and growling was too much. He could tell you were getting close.

“Cum for me baby, that’s right.” he growled in your ear.

By that point you couldn’t stop if you wanted to. With a loud cry you came, clutching his body as tightly as you could as your body writhed in a wild rhythm. With you panting and moaning below him, your walls clenching him now, your climax pushed Sergei to his, and he moaned loudly as he rode out his own pleasure. He growled your name, loudly, then buried his face in your neck while he pumped his load with a few last thrusts.

Both of you stayed silent for several minutes, trying to catch your breath and not wanting the moment to end. You felt him soften and he kissed you lightly on the forehead before easing himself out.

After you both had washed up, Sergei curled around you in bed, holding you tight.

“Honey, that was incredible,” you told him. “I’m so glad this happened.”

He just nuzzled your neck and gave you a few light nibbles.

A minute or two later, you felt him start to stir again.

You ended up making quite a dent in the bag of condoms that night.

***

Later that night, you woke up completely disoriented. You had no idea where you were, and had briefly forgotten who had his arms around you. You felt trapped, paralyzed. Your heart was starting to race and your fingers started to tingle.

“Hey.” Sergei said, behind you. It was a statement of concern.

Your breathing was shallow and you felt like you couldn’t move. _Shit, not now._ A panic attack.

“Hey, baby,” he said in low, soothing tones. “It’s Sergei, remember? We’re at my house. It’s safe, but I can take you home if you want.”

You managed to shake your head. You never had these before everything with your ex, but now they came on at unpredictable times.

Sergei tried to hold you tightly but you managed to squeak out simply “...no.” And he stopped.

He continued laying next to you, reminding you that you were safe and lightly stroking your arm until it subsided about 15 minutes later.

“Sorry about that,” you said, finally, a bit embarrassed. What must he think? “It was just-”

“A panic attack,” he said. “Yeah, I know. You don’t have to apologize. Do you feel okay now?”

“Yeah. Better. If you still want to hold me now… that would be nice.”

He wrapped you up in his large arms and gave you a squeeze. You were surprised at how safe you felt here, with him, but you were grateful for his patience.

“I get those, too,” was the last thing you remember him telling you before you drifted off.

***

In the morning you woke up with your arm draped over Sergei’s chest.  He was still asleep. You watched for a few seconds to be sure he was fast asleep before you pulled back the blanket a little to get a look at the large tattooed letters.

“Morning,” he said with a giggle, startling you.

“Morning, Sergei.”

“Whatcha doing?”

“Just… looking at your tattoo. What do these words mean?” He paused before responding. “Sorry, you don’t have to-”

“It doesn’t have a literal English translation, but it kind of means… ‘fire worm’.”

“Um _what?_ ”

“It’s a kind of bug - a magic creature that lives in Ukraine near some of the oldest Orc villages. It looks like this lump, and it’s real slow, but if it’s threatened, it forms a magic fireball all around. Kinda looks like a basketball made out of fire. Anyway, that was my nickname when I was… working for the family.”

“Oh. Okay. Can I ask- why?.”

“They thought I was really quiet and calm… just this lump of an orc. Until i had to work. They said I went from zero to fire worm. Somehow that became my nickname.” He obviously hated talking about this. You felt bad for asking. You were so excited about the future and the last thing you’d want to do is bring up painful parts of his past.

“I’m sorry, babe. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He just shook his head. “I don’t mind telling you. Really. I just hate those memories. Most of the time I had to get drunk or loaded to ‘do my job’- that’s why I seemed so different to them I guess. Anyway, the fire worm is actually a larva. Like a pupa or a caterpillar. It turns into this gorgeous butterfly with glowing wings and like a twelve-inch wingspan. It can fly in and out of fires without getting burned.” He shrugged. “I guess that’s pretty cool.”

You remembered the first time you had met: you’d been captivated by a piece of art he’d made called _Chrysalis_. Suddenly it took on new meaning. Sergei’s art had been a kind of chrysalis for him, allowing him to shed his past and reshape himself into a whole new person, luminous and resilient. You smiled at him.

“You’re pretty cool,” you told him.

He caressed your cheek and gave you a warm smile.

“I love you, baby. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“I love you, too, Sergei. I feel the same way.”

You nuzzled into him and he squeezed you close. In a lot of ways, it was incredible that the two of you had found each other. Both of you had your scars, but both of you also had lots of reasons for hope. You had no idea what the future would bring the two of you, but you couldn’t wait to find out.


End file.
